


Handle Me

by writingstudent



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:42:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23408506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingstudent/pseuds/writingstudent
Summary: A shieldmaiden returns from battle, and she finds herself sitting at the dining hall with Ivar. The crippled prince won't take no for an answer, but has he met his match?“You Y/N, seem like the perfect choice.” He nipped at your earlobe teasingly. The sound of your name rolling off his tongue pushed out a quick gasp, your mouth watering at the sensation.“Now, the question is, can you handle me, darling?”
Relationships: Ivar (Vikings)/Original Character(s), Ivar (Vikings)/Original Female Character(s), Ivar (Vikings)/Reader, Ivar (Vikings)/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 59





	Handle Me

**Author's Note:**

> You can buy me a coffee and support my work at: https://ko-fi.com/writingstudent  
> Accepting commissions - message me on tumblr for more information: https://writingstudent.tumblr.com/

You shifted awkwardly in your chair, hands immediately going to smooth down the skirt of your floor length dress. It was not often that you wore such dresses, or any dresses for that matter. Being born on a farm and raised without a woman in your life, you were not a graceful being. You were a shieldmaiden, a fierce fighter. This has earned you several scars among your body, that littered it alongside the several tattoos that you had been given as sign of comradeship with your other fellow soldiers.

It was an understatement to say that you felt uncomfortable as you sat down next to the usual flower picking girls around the table. You were sitting next to Ubbe, who had Margrethe on his other side. He must have picked up on your awkwardness when you had first entered the dining hall and quickly motioned for you to sit down next to him. You were very grateful, and finally realized why almost all the women in Kattegat melted at the sight of him – not only was he attractive, but he was also a very caring man.

A hand suddenly clamped upon your lower calf. You let out a small yelp, and your battle reflexes immediately took over, making you take whatever you had in your hand (which happened to be a fork) and slam it onto the arm that was holding your leg in a vicious grip. Luckily for your attacker, he quickly moved his arm away. Your fork was now stuck halfway into the wooden floor, its hilt bent oddly towards a side.

“Impressive.”

A small growl left your throat at his condescending tone, and your mind was quickly clouded with anger. You whipped your head around, and crabbed your attacker by the collar of his shirt, snarling in his face. That is when you realized, that you were looking at Ivar’s mesmerizing blue eyes. _Odin_.. you thought. You were holding Ivar Ragnarsson up by the collar while snarling menacingly at him. It was worse than writing, signing and sending your death wish to the gods. Your lips were also a few mere centimeters from Ivar’s plump pink ones.

“Now, I do like it when a woman knows how to manhandle me.” You could taste the ale in his breath due to your proximity. You shuddered at his sultry tone, needing to take a deep breath to resettle yourself. You quickly let go of his collar, letting him fall back to the ground unceremoniously.

Ubbe next to you chuckled, clearly amused by the scene he had just witnessed. “Are you alright Y/N? I have to say, it is certainly a pleasure to see a woman finally be able to put Ivar back in his place. ” He laughed whole-heartedly, getting louder at your horrified expression.

“E-excuse me, my reflexes took over.” You lowered your head in shame, nervously tugging your dress lower to cover your legs again. The ink that swirled around your lower thighs and the back of your knees covered the scars that you could not help but hate looking at.

The small bench you were sitting on shook slightly as Ivar heaved himself onto it, smirking as he made sure to keep very little space between the two of you. “Ivar, I don’ -”

You were cut off from protesting as Aslaug stood up, demanding silence in order to make a toast. It was an unwritten rule that one was not to leave the table or change seats since the delivery of the toast – unless such is requested or approved by the queen. You did not wish to fall out of her good graces, and hence you could do nothing to offend her crippled son, which she watched and fawned over constantly. 

“The gods have blessed us on our past raid! We have shown these Christians who we are, ruthless, violent and blood-thirsty Vikings. We have to thank our fiercest and most notable fighters – Ubbe, Y/n, Sig-…. ”

The list went on, but you had drowned out the sound of the rest of her speech. Pride bubbled in your chest, as you grinned lazily at the queen, winking as you lifted up your cup towards her. She didn’t seem to be able to resist the temptation to laugh at you and nod approvingly of your gesture.

You could feel the curious glances of the Vikings weighing upon your body, looking you up and down as if to seize you up and understand how you could ever be a fighter. But there was a gaze that seemed to burn you. You did not have to look at him to feel his eye shift, frantically scanning over your face and then lowering to your chest abdomen and to your legs. You weren’t sure if you wanted to turn your head or not – on one hand, you could have told him off and ended the awkward sensation of tingling throughout your body, while on the other you could have simply remained quiet, and would not have to burden yourself with seeing his reaction. The cold fingers of a shiver traced your spine. His reaction.

He kept looking, but this time his gaze was lingering well below your chin, and focusing on your body instead. Your shoulders, too wide after all the training and preparing for battle, your stomach too strong to hide properly within the corset of the dress. Then came your legs. You grimaced simply thinking about them. You had been severely injured multiple times in battle, leading to your legs becoming a fascinating display of scars. You hated them, and always felt uncomfortable at their sight. They had grown old, and no longer protruded your legs’ natural shape, but instead simple marked your skin with odd patterns of light – like an artist scratching out his unwanted sketch. Unwanted, that is what they were.

You had attempted to cover them up with ink, but nevertheless they were not as feminine and elegant as they once had been.

You tense suddenly when a calloused hand grabs onto your knee. It does not move, yet instead, it holds you forcefully, giving you a slight squeeze.

“What were you saying Y/N?” His breath fanned upon your neck, spreading a searing warmth throughout your body – adding to that of his gaze.

You gulped. “I don’t think that we should sit so close together.”

Hurt quickly flashed upon his face, but was replaced with his capricious fury. “What?” He hissed, pulling your knee towards himself and making you face him in the process. “Are you afraid of sitting next to the cripple?” His tone was getting lower and so was the volume of his voice, but his words were getting as menacing as ever. “Are you afraid that my legs will somehow infect yours? That you will not be able to flaunt anymore, or go around as the battalion’s hellcat?”

You squared your shoulders, relaxing as you arrived back into your familiar territory of sentiments and discussions. As a woman, you were often accused of such actions, and being a shield maiden you were one quick to violence.

You stared him straight into the eyes, challenging him purposefully this time. You were blinded by your own uncontrollable anger, and you could feel your fear and uncertainty slip away instantly. He wanted a show? He will get a show.

“Why? Did you sit next to me hoping that your legs would learn from mine?” You snarled back at him, your upper lip lifting slightly in repulsion at the force he was applying to your kneecap.

His eyes widened and a hand quickly wrapped around your throat, squeezing it mercilessly and almost blocking your air passageway. You continue glaring at him, nearly unfazed by his violent reaction, but your face softens as you look down at your legs. You spent what seemed like hours in this silence, knowing that you would have a blooming bruise on your throats the next day. “There’s nothing to flaunt anyways” you rasped out, your voice sounding very airy due to Ivars hold on your neck. Confusion took over his features, and he slackened his hold. “ Why? ” “ it’s nothing that anyone would want to see. Wake up Ivar, look around you. There are plenty of pretty women, elegant and gracious, made for the soul purpose of ring wives. Even the servants and slaves would look better.” You were whispering now. Ivars hand simply rested on your neck, no longer doing anything to harm you. But these words did. These thoughts. Why were you telling him anyways ? It’s not like he could have ever understood. He was a prince, and a man for that fact, he took whatever he wanted. “ Why would anyone want me if they could have anyone better?” 

“ _Darling_ ,” Ivar drawled out, his sarcastic demeanor returning, “do I need to remind you that you are sitting next to the _cripple_?“ A puffed chuckle passed through his lips. 

He took his hand away from your neck, but his other found its way back to your calf, kneading it softly. He leaned in closely, “I do not believe that they are as bad as you describe them to be. How about you let me the judge of that tonight? ” 

Your heart hammered into your chest, excitement rushing through your veins. Gods, what you wanted to do to him. In just a few minutes he had made you shy, furious, uncomfortable and back to a stuttering puddle. 

Ivar’s calloused hand began sliding up dangerously, snapping you out of your thoughts immediately. 

“Plus, like I said before, I wish for a woman who can handle me. I lust for a warrior, fierce, cunning and beautiful.”Ivar added, after having sensed your discomfort. “You _Y/N_ , seem like the perfect choice.” He nipped at your earlobe teasingly. The sound of your name rolling off his tongue pushed out a quick gasp, your mouth watering at the sensation. 

“Now, the question is, can you handle me, darling?” 

You once again found yourself staring in his sea-blue eyes, remaining mesmerized. You didn’t have time to think before you crashed your mouth onto his. The passion in your kiss was feral, your teeth clashing as neither could restrain themselves. 

Yes, you certainly could. 


End file.
